


Their Little Secret

by Moontyger



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: M/M, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-16
Updated: 2012-03-16
Packaged: 2017-11-02 01:30:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/363507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moontyger/pseuds/Moontyger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris might not consciously know what's going on, but that doesn't mean he doesn't notice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Their Little Secret

**Author's Note:**

  * For [diabla616](https://archiveofourown.org/users/diabla616/gifts).
  * Inspired by [While you were sleeping](https://archiveofourown.org/works/282543) by [diabla616](https://archiveofourown.org/users/diabla616/pseuds/diabla616). 



The Abomination was staring at him again. Fenris could feel it: brown eyes that, as far as he was concerned, only served to conceal the monster within, boring into his back. He opened his mouth to say something, then glanced at Hawke and settled for gritting his teeth. Who cared what Anders thought he was looking at? Fenris was no longer a slave and he was far from helpless. If the Abomination touched him, he'd be lucky to lose only a hand, but looking he supposed he could tolerate.

For the rest of the day, he put it out of his mind. He always did his best to ignore Anders when Hawke insisted on bringing him along; Fenris just made sure he succeeded this time. As far as he was concerned, they were a party of three, or at least, so he told himself.

By the time he returned home to the mansion he'd refused to redecorate to suit himself, he was predictably seething. He smashed another chair just to make himself feel better – with all the destroyed furniture already scattered about, no one was likely to notice and ask him about it.

It was equally predictable that he'd see Anders in his dreams, unable to escape that hated presence even while sleeping. What Fenris would never have expected was the _nature_ of his dream. If he'd dreamed of fighting with him, even killing him, he'd have been fine with that. Even an overtly sexual dream he might have excused – fucking was merely another form of release and Maker knew he needed one after a day like this one.

But the dream wasn't like that. There was no anger, no resentment. Just Anders touching him, tracing the lines of the tattoos he hated with that gentle healer's touch that an Abomination like him should no longer be capable of.

Dreaming, he allowed it, reacted as he was certain he wouldn't were it real. He tilted his head as Anders' fingers slid up his neck and under his hair, arching into a touch so slight that it couldn't explain the strength of his reaction, the way he shivered and gave way before it without even a token fight.

Waking, he barely restrained himself from more destruction.

His mood that day was bad enough that even Hawke commented on it. When he showed up at The Hanged Man that evening, Isabela and Varric took turns trying to tease him out of it before finally giving up and leaving him to get thoroughly drunk.

“After all,” Varric observed as a parting shot, “it's not as though a hangover could make your mood _worse_.”

Unfortunately, Fenris had to admit that he was probably right. Even worse, not even drinking himself into oblivion could stop the dreams. It repeated itself, that night and the next and the next, until he thought he'd go mad. _Why_ couldn't he stop dreaming of that hated mage?

He tried to deal with it. Maybe it was his own hatred that made Anders so hard to get out of his mind; he focused so much emotion on him that he couldn't stop even when he slept. Fenris tried to get past it, tried to treat Anders better, to treat _everyone_ better. He was used enough to all of them to do it now, even to begin to trust them – at least most of them. And he couldn't help but notice that it made Hawke happier and that was nearly enough motive to continue on its own.

But what it didn't do was stop the dreams. He didn't have them every night, not after the first few. In fact, he eventually began to notice that he was unlikely to have them on days when he didn't see Anders, which would have suggested a solution if he'd been better at telling Hawke no once in awhile. It was funny in a dark sort of way – he'd hated being a slave, but given his freedom, he willingly followed someone else anyway. Maybe he just didn't know how to be independent. On the other hand, maybe it simply wasn't worth throwing away one of the only friendships he'd ever had simply to make a point.

Besides, Hawke was stubborn enough that even if Fenris had tried to insist on avoiding Anders entirely, it wouldn't have lasted long. He'd probably have ended up giving in eventually.

The strangest part of the whole thing was that the truth never occurred to him. He never thought that maybe these weren't dreams, but instead something real, memories of events he wasn't entirely conscious of. Even with the connection between seeing Anders and dreaming of him, he never even considered the possibility – not until he opened his eyes and it was happening.

At first, he wasn't sure he was truly awake. Perhaps the dreams had merely taken another turn, perhaps he'd finally become more than a passive recipient in them. Even as he demanded to know what Anders was doing, Fenris felt such a strong sense of _déjà vu_ that he wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't.

Maybe that was why he gave in so easily, why he only said he _should_ kill him instead of actually doing it, even after Anders taunted him with an arrogant statement about how good he could make Fenris feel. Or maybe it was that Anders looked so damned good like that, face flushed and eyes darkened until they were nearly black, reactions so normal that Fenris could almost forget the demon lurking inside.

No, he decided. That wasn't it. It wasn't anything that personal. He didn't actually  _want_ this man who represented everything he despised. It was merely fitting – after so many years of being forced to serve a mage's every whim, it was about time that a mage serviced  _him_ .

Fenris put his hands on Anders' shoulders and shoved him to his knees, indicating what he expected with gestures instead of words. Now that he was awake, he wasn't going to just passively let things happen and talking was the last thing he wanted. They weren't  _lovers –_ this was something else.

“No more,” he growled, even as warm lips wrapped around his cock, as he leaned back and spread his legs to allow greater access, permitting what he would have sworn he never would. “No more of this. Not while I'm asleep. And don't expect me to treat you any differently!”

And then he stopped talking, because Anders proved as good as his word. Maybe, Fenris thought, not quite able to stifle a moan, he'd let it happen again. Maybe his visits to the clinic would be about more than healing. His eyes slid closed and, slowly, he smiled. It would be their little secret.


End file.
